Destruction
by rememberese
Summary: I am no stranger to destruction. Things are made to be broken. Still, I couldn’t help but feel that destroying Emma Nelson was the worst thing I’d ever done.


Author's Note: This is Rated M because of some sexual content. I tried my best not to get very descriptive because I didn't want full on porn, but I figured I would caution everyone. Spoilers for "Secret" and if you haven't seen the episode, this won't make sense to you anyway. This'll probably be the last one for a while. Reviews are especially appreciated because I'm on the fence. Thanks.

I've always had some sort of fascination with destruction. As a kid I stuck cherry bombs in mailboxes, ran over ants with my bike, and dropped whatever I could find out of my second story window. I broke. I carved. I smashed. I kicked. I cut. I punched. If something had the potential to come apart, I'd make sure it did. It didn't start with people until I turned thirteen. As far back as I can remember my Mom had a bad heroin habit. It was because of this that I learned how to take care of the both of us so early on. She needed me. When I turned thirteen, she met some guy at a coffee shop. It wasn't the first guy she had dated since my Dad left, but I quickly found out that it would probably be the last. He wasn't sleazy like the others. He didn't buy her drugs, and made sure that she knew he would only stick around if she got clean. You'd think this sort of thing would make me happy, but all I could feel was jealousy. I was supposed to be the one that took care of her, not him. He needed to go.

Every Monday after I left for school my Mom would "clean my room". In actuality, she just needed an excuse to search through my stuff. When I was twelve, I made the mistake of leaving a couple of cigarettes in my sock drawer. She found them of course, and I was grounded for two weeks. Since then I've known better to leave my things lying around my room. That was unless I wanted her to find them.

In middle school it's not easy to come across smack. When all your peers are busy protesting school lunches and trying out for sports teams, there isn't much of a drug market. High school was a completely different story though. Hang around there long enough and you can get anything. Needle and all, but it cost me. I stuck it in the sock drawer, just like the cigarettes. Half of me was terrified about the amount of potential trouble I would get in over it, but the other half of me knew it was what I had to do. When I got home from school that Monday, I went straight to my room. The needle was in place, but nowhere near as full as it had been this morning. From then on I'd save up all my lunch money to get more. When my Mom was strung out, the boyfriend wasn't so interested. They had broken up by the time I entered my freshmen year. Mission complete.

There you have it. I am no stranger to destruction. Usually I don't even feel the tiniest bit of regret. Things are made to be broken. Still, I couldn't help but feel that destroying Emma Nelson was the worst thing I'd ever done.

It'd been a week after her last visit to the clinic, and despite what her parents thought she had not even hit the bottom yet. She didn't just want more bracelets. She wanted more alcohol. She wanted more cigarettes. She wanted to stay out all night. She wanted to skip school the next day. She wanted all my attention, but I could barely get an ounce of hers. She wanted to try everything. Manny Santos, who? The white powder had become her new best friend.

I knew I'd gone too far when she starting seeing other guys. I saw her coming out of the van with one of the ravine regulars, and I guess one would say I lost my cool. I fucked the kid up and Emma just watched with an interested look on her face. Was this the same Emma Nelson that stepped between Rick and I that day at the Dot? The anti-violence crusader? I wasn't sure. She didn't tell me to stop. She showed no emotion. She just went back over towards the park bench and lit herself a cigarette. I tried to talk to her about it, but the most response I got from her was that he didn't know how to do "it" right anyway.

My intentions were never for things to go this far. I knew she was upset that Cameron skipped town, and I don't deny that I took advantage of that. I had no expectations when I invited her to the ravine that first night. I didn't even think she would come. That's why I was surprised when she asked me to take her to the van. When I kissed her I could feel her knees shaking and I could see the fear in her eyes. Mentally I was calculating how many times she'd done this before. I figured besides Cameron and that DJ kid she hung around with, I was the only guy that she'd ever kissed. Sean told me it wasn't until the second time they dated that she figured out how to use tongue. She pulled away.

"Calm down, Nelson," I told her. "It's not like I'm going to hurt you."

What else could I have said? Emma, first I'm going to stick my dick between your pure and untainted glossed lips. Then I'll take your virginity and along with it, all of your innocence. I'll make you dependent, not only on me, but everything about this area. It won't be long until you are caught up in this twisted place full of lies, sex, and drugs. It will hurt. It will hurt so bad that you won't be able to function without of all it. None of that would go over too well.

Obviously what I said didn't either, because she ran. She fumbled to get the door open and she ran out of there as fast as she could. Right then and there I figured that was the end of everything. I got smashed and spent the night with some different girl. Brown hair, big tits, and no inhibitions. Everything Emma was not.

To this day I couldn't tell you why, but she came back the next night. Maybe it was something I said at school. Maybe it was that bitch Amy teasing her all the time. Maybe she was just sick of waiting. I don't know, but no matter how unrealistic it is, I like to think it had something to do with me.

Pure, innocent, virgin Emma Nelson moaning my name while my tongue was between her thighs. The girl who wouldn't have looked at me with anything more than disgust last year was letting me inside of her. I was worried about hurting her. I wasn't Alex's first time. Amy's either. None of the girls, actually. I'd been seconds, thirds, fourths, but I'd never been anyone's first. Until now.

I could tell she was uncomfortable at first. It was cold that night and I could feel the goose bumps rising on her skin. Gradually she let her guard down. She wasn't trembling anymore, and the heat of our bodies made the goose bumps disappear.

When it was over she laid there with her eyes closed. My fingers intertwined with hers and we stayed there silently. I was thinking, as I'm sure she was too. I guess this works literally as well as figuratively, but I'd just put the final nail in the coffin of what was Emma Nelson.

That's when someone started to bang on the door. Drunk, probably. But she got scared and raced to put on her clothes.

"Emma, wait. It's locked, it doesn't matter."

"I've got to go. Okay? I'll be back tomorrow, I promise."

And that was it. Romantic? Not so much. But it happened and that's what mattered. She did come back the next night, and the night after that. She came back until that day at school where every Grade 10 and 11-health class had a guest speaker on gonorrhea. It put the both of us out of commission for two weeks.

What could I do? Send a "Sorry about the STD" card? An apology seemed like it wasn't enough. So I said nothing. She said nothing. And in two weeks we were right back where we started. This time she was drunk. She slurred and she fumbled. She couldn't undo my belt. Her kisses were no longer fragile. She didn't have the terrified look on her face. She looked as if she wanted to just get it done with. It was fast. Faster than the other nights at least, and in place of my name she said things like "harder" and "more". She wasn't the graceful and delicate girl that I'd been with just a few weeks ago.

When it was over, she immediately put her clothes back on. She pulled a small glass bottle out of her coat and offered me some. When I declined, she rolled her eyes and fumbled with opening the van door.

"See you later," she said as she climbed out into the black night.

"Yeah…later."

I wish I could say that I didn't know what happened to her. That would be a lie. I happened to her. Just like I happened to everything else in my life. Now she was nothing more than damaged goods. Tainted. Everything virtuous about her had disappeared.

Emma Nelson didn't quite fit in on a list with last year's Honda Civic, my cousin's Barbie dolls, and a whole bunch of ants, but there was no where else to put her. There was no repairing something this broken.


End file.
